


And now I'm ready to feel your hand

by ember_firedrake



Series: Let me see you in your darkness [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Lay all you want on me." Flint can't stop thinking about what happened. He can't afford distractions, but when Silver approaches him in his cabin with an offer, Flint doesn't think he can refuse. </p>
<p>Set before 1x08.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And now I'm ready to feel your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistflarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistflarden/gifts).



“Well, that's a few weeks from now, isn't it? We might be friends by then.”

It had taken all the resolve Flint possessed in that moment to maintain control of the situation, to fix Silver with a sinister smile and watch the way Silver's throat bobbed as he swallowed. Reminding himself that maintaining control was preferable to giving into whatever desires this...infuriating man had awakened within him. He reminded himself this was Eleanor's office, and though he had her permission to use it for a short time, that permission certainly wouldn't extend to whatever this situation was on the risk of becoming. He stood slowly, his erection pressing against the confines of his trousers, and stepped back around the desk. He could see the way Silver's body tensed the slightest amount, as if holding in a breath in anticipation. Flint's hand twitched at his side as he once more took in the sight of Silver's ass, bright red and flushed with welts. He could still feel the sting in his palm, still hear in his mind the wrecked timbre of Silver's voice as he'd groaned _Fuck me_. God, how he wanted. 

That was what had brought him up short, had moved him to place the desk between himself and Mr. Silver as a barrier against what he was feeling. Because this—he wasn't supposed to want this. He was trying to deal out a punishment (a deserved one, as far as he was concerned), and the idea that it had woken some perverse part of his mind made something uncomfortable twist in the pit of Flint's stomach. 

Besides, it was obvious Silver had said what he did in order to turn the situation to his advantage, to throw Flint off. Unfortunately, he'd succeeded, much as Flint tried to keep that fact hidden. Silver didn't _want_ him any more than Flint wanted to be burdened with a petty thief as his ship's cook. 

And yet, as Flint stepped closer, he saw the tremble in Silver's body. He saw the shift in stance as Silver spread his legs wider. Silver's cock hung heavy between his legs—and God, what if he _did_ want this?

There wasn't time to consider that now, not with the others downstairs waiting. 

“You may want to compose yourself, Mr. Silver,” Flint said, leaning down as close as he dared, though part of him itched to close that distance entirely. “We’ll have company again in a moment. You don't want to get caught with your trousers down.”

Flint moved to cross the room, the rational part of him wanting to place as much distance as possible between himself and Silver. He could not, however, deny the hollow ache it left him with, especially as he watched Silver hastily move to pull his trousers up again, giving an audible hiss as the material undoubtedly felt abrasive on his sensitive backside. Flint felt a pang of guilt, remorse at the pain he had caused as well as his own reaction to it. Shame that, even now, he wanted to explore Silver’s reaction further. He wanted to lay Silver out, use gentle caresses on the places he had treated so rudely. He wanted to take up Silver’s offer, because it had been so long since he’d felt the heat of another man’s body, another man’s thighs, another man’s cock. He wanted to feel—

Flint felt his face flush as he realized his gaze had drifted to Silver’s erection, and he abruptly composed himself, opening the door and calling for the others to return. Though he could feel Silver’s eyes on him for the remainder of the meeting, he did his best to focus elsewhere. He could not afford distraction now. Not when he was so close to achieving everything he’d striven towards for years. 

He thought, after that incident, that Mr. Silver would want to avoid him. In the following days, however, Flint found more often than not when he looked up from his duties, Silver was watching him. He had half a mind to think Silver had sabotaged the pig on purpose, for the expressed purpose of eliciting some reaction in Flint. Flint only gritted his teeth, showing Silver the proper way to roast a pig, and refusing to rise to any of the man’s conversational bait. 

He could not help but wonder how Silver fared in the days since the punishment. He certainly seemed to favor himself a little on the beach for anyone who watched him too closely, never sitting if he could help it. Not that Flint had been watching him closely.

Flint was forced to admit some grudging admiration when Silver had proved resourceful during the ship careening, when he'd run beneath the groaning hull’s shadow to deposit the cleaver beside Flint in the sand. Perhaps utilitarian in his pragmatism, Flint had thought later, as he washed Randall’s blood from himself, but resourceful nevertheless. It had been something of a relief to stash Silver along with the recovering Randall in Eleanor’s office while he chased the _Andromache_ , because Silver was too clever by half. It would be too easy to underestimate him. 

Getting a reprieve from the temptation Silver’s proximity elicited had nothing to do with it, or at least Flint told himself that. 

With all the trouble posed in chasing the _Andromache_ , obtaining her guns, dealing with mutinous crew members, and fleeing the _Scarborough_ , the situation in Nassau had slipped his mind. And even then, there were more pressing concerns like the matter of Billy's cryptic comments regarding Miranda to attend to. 

It wasn’t until he approached Eleanor’s office that the full weight of everything came rushing back. Miss Guthrie’s desk resting almost benignly in the same place it always had, but now as Flint looked upon it he felt his face heat with recollection of what had happened at that very desk only a few days ago. 

As of that wasn't bad enough, Silver was in the room too, smiling and watching Flint with a loaded expression. Surprising enough to find him still there—he hadn't slipped his manacles in the period Flint had been gone—and even more surprising to find he'd helped Eleanor in some way to solidify her endeavors. Too clever by half, Flint mused, reluctantly impressed. 

Eleanor was speaking. “I tell you this because I imagine you might still hold some resentment toward him.”

In spite of himself, Flint felt his eyebrow quirking. Resentment, is that what he would call it? 

Eleanor continued, “And I've given him my word in exchange for his assistance that I'll stand between him and your resentment. In other words, if Mr. Silver doesn't return from the Urca, you and I may find ourselves with problems of our own.”

Flint looked to Silver once more, whose smile had faded and now looked at Flint with the heavy weight of suggestion. He was thinking about what had happened in this room, too. Flint had thought nothing of it when he'd had Silver stashed here, but of course Silver would have had time amidst the memory of what had happened. Christ, he was probably still sore from the experience. And he was looking at Flint like—what?—like he wanted more?

“What a day I missed,” Flint said, turning to move towards the door. He could still feel Silver’s eyes on him, and in spite of all the trouble he had caused, Flint once more couldn't help his grudging admiration for the man’s resourcefulness, his ability to make himself useful whenever the situation demanded. 

“Come on,” was all Flint said, curt and indirect. Behind him, he heard Silver scramble to rise from his seat and follow. Heat pooled in Flint’s belly at the thought of how quickly Silver moved to obey him in this instance. That... _that_ was something he wanted to explore further, if only—

_No_ , he told himself firmly. There were far more important matters to be dealt with, like consulting Miranda about what Billy had said, as well as resupply for the ships before they went underway to hunt the Urca’s treasure. There was simply no time to indulge in this kind of distraction. 

* * *

Flint sat in the chair of his cabin, nursing rum in the bottom of his glass. The ship swayed gently, the sails having been reduced with the onset of night. Ship matters had kept him occupied for the last several days, but there was only so long he could distract himself from his thoughts. The pieces were finally falling into place, and he was so close. To securing the gold, the achieving his dreams for Nassau’s future. The only thing currently in his way…

A knock sounded on the cabin door. “Enter,” Flint said gruffly. 

John Silver entered. Almost immediately, the air in the room felt closer. “I didn’t send for you,” Flint said.

“I’m aware,” Silver said, shutting the door. There was a caution to his movements as he crossed the cabin, but Flint didn’t think it was from fear. “From the coordinates you relayed to the helmsman an hour ago, I’m guessing tomorrow you’ll need the last of your schedule.”

Flint arched an eyebrow. “Are you giving that information over freely now?”

Silver gave a smile, one that curled the corner of his mouth and made something within Flint grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with liquor. “You’ll have your information when you need it, Captain, I assure you.” 

“Then why are you here?” Flint asked. Even as he said the words, part of him already guessed the answer, watching as Silver shifted nervously for a moment. 

“What happened that day, in Miss Guthrie’s office...are we going to continue pretending that was just a punishment? Because I think we both know that’s a lie,” Silver said. His words were measured, carefully chosen, but Flint got the impression that was coming from a place of genuine honesty and not calculation. “I was...clearly affected, by what happened. And I know you were as well.”

Flint regarded Silver. The way his dark hair cascaded around his face. His angular jaw and stubborn mouth. Those intense blue eyes that stared at him from beneath furrowed brows. It must have taken a lot of courage for Silver to approach him like this, not knowing in what mood he would be received. This was the sort of thing that, were it another captain under different circumstances, offense would be taken at Mr. Silver’s apparent presumption. 

“I’ll ask again,” Flint said, his tone gentle. “Why are you here?” 

Silver swallowed, and Flint’s eyes tracked the bob of his adam's apple at his throat. When he spoke, there was the slightest quaver in his tone. “I wanted to ask if you would do it again. If you would...strike me like you did that day.” 

Flint took a deep breath, exhaling through his nostrils. He didn’t want to deny his or Silver’s reactions. He wanted to explore them further. He wanted… “When you say, ‘like I did that day’, do you want to be bent over the desk again?” 

Color rose in Silver’s cheeks, and he was breathing more heavily. “I’d like that…or more. Whatever—whatever you’d be willing to give me, really.”

“Let me stop you a moment before we go any further,” Flint said, rising from his chair. If they were doing this— _christ_ , if he was allowing himself to indulge in this manner...but Silver wanted this. He _wanted_ this, or he wouldn’t be here, offering this. But Flint needed to resolve something before they continued, for the sake of his own conscience. “There are certain things we must settle before we proceed. First of all, I am only in control inasmuch as you are allowing me that control. The moment you are uncomfortable, we stop this. Understood?” 

Silver nodded, his face incredulous, as if he hadn’t believed Flint would actually agree to this. 

“Secondly.” At this Flint stepped close, looming into Silver’s space. “If you are doing this because you hope to get some sort of leverage over me, if you are trying to gain an advantage, or seek information for future blackmail, know that I will not hesitate to end your life. Is _that_ understood?” 

Silver gave a steady nod. “Understood, Captain.”

Flint closed his eyes a moment, the honorific making heat curl in his belly. It was difficult to trust Silver after the trouble he’d caused with the schedule, and there was always the chance this, too, was another attempt to seize an opportunity. _We might be friends by then_ , Silver had said, and what was to say this wasn’t just his means of securing that friendship? The sensible part of Flint was telling him to dismiss Silver, to hail him when the final piece of information was needed and otherwise leave him be. To set his own desires aside as he had for years.

But it had been so very long since he’d allowed himself the company of another man. And here Silver was, offering himself, offering his submission. As long as they both understood the rules of their engagement, was there any harm in indulging in this? It didn’t have to mean anything.

“Another thing,” Flint said. “You need a word. One you can use under any circumstances, at any point in the session. You say it, I’ll stop what I’m doing, and you may leave. No questions, no consequences.”

Silver’s pupils had gone dark, his irises thin rings of blue. He opened his mouth, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. Flint’s eyes tracked the movement. “I...I’m not sure what word would be best,” Silver admitted. 

Flint considered. Something simple, easy to remember. Not something that could be said accidentally or misinterpreted as a plea to continue. He cast his gaze about the cabin, and his eyes landed on a slim nautical glossary. “Belay,” Flint said. “You know what it means?”

Silver nodded. 

Flint surveyed Silver, letting his eyes travel the length of Silver’s body. This close, he could see the way Silver’s breath quickened, the slight bulge at the front of his trousers, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. The room felt much smaller than it had a moment ago, and something between them had shifted. When Flint’s gaze met once more with Silver’s, he could see hunger in those eyes. Flint felt his own body already responding in kind. 

Flint gave a smile, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. “Remove your garments, Mr. Silver. All of them.” 

Silver exhaled raggedly. Flint had to admit, part of him had made the order specifically to place Silver in a position of greater vulnerability than the last time. It was his way of testing Silver’s resolve, to see if Silver would utter that word now that he knew there would be no consequences if he did. Another part of Flint selfishly wanted to see Silver strip completely bare for him. 

Which Silver did, slowly. He bent first to remove his boots, unbuckling then slipping them off. Flint caught a flash of red striped socks before Silver’s feet were bare on the wood floor of the cabin. Then Silver’s eyes were on him again, his gaze unwavering as he rolled his shoulders back, letting his jacket slip to the floor. The shirt went next, Silver’s hands reaching back and pulling the material up and forward until his dark curls were falling onto his now bare shoulders.

Flint let himself drink in the sight of Silver’s torso. His skin was gloriously tan, practically glowing in the lantern light, and free of the blemishes and scars that came from a life of pirating. His abdomen rippled as he bent to push down his trousers. Flint could only stare as Silver’s cock was exposed, half-hard already just from their conversation. He hadn’t gotten a proper look at it, that day, shadowed as it had been from Silver being bent over the desk. Silver stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside, fully naked at last. He moved towards the desk.

“Wait,” Flint said, before Silver could settle against the desk. Not that the image of him bent over that wooden surface wasn’t an attractive one. Flint moved back to his captain’s chair, sitting once more upon the cushioned seat. 

“Over my lap, Mr. Silver.” 

He saw the way Silver’s eyes widened as he hesitated. Flint wondered if he had pushed too far, but then Silver stepped closer, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. Flint shifted on the chair to make room, and then Silver was bending, settling across his lap. Silver arched, ass raised and spine bowing before Flint. He gripped the armrest of the chair for support, his head sagging forward. Flint held in a breath as he felt Silver’s cock brushing the outside of his thigh, then the tension of Silver’s abdomen. There was the slightest tremble rippling through Silver’s body, anticipation for what would shortly happen. 

Flint’s eyes could not help but be drawn to the curve of Silver’s ass, prominently displayed as it was. His own breath caught in his throat as he took in the faint marks still present there, a week old now. He reached out, tracing them gently with his fingertips. Silver let out a soft gasp at the contact. 

“Do these still hurt?” Flint asked. 

“I barely feel them anymore,” Silver said, an odd note of disappointment in his tone. 

“Hmmm.” Flint allowed himself a moment, waiting until the anticipation had Silver shifting self-consciously against him. Then, without warning, he brought his hand down in a hard slap. 

Silver, taken by surprise, let out a sharp cry before he managed to muffle his reaction against one of his balled fists. 

“How about now?” Flint asked, voice low. 

A strangled whimper was the only reply Silver gave. 

“Do you want me to belay?” 

Flint waited, watching the shudder that passed through Silver, the red handprint blooming on the skin of Silver’s ass. Flint’s palm prickled with the echoing sting. Finally, Silver spoke. “No. Please, Captain...another.” 

Flint bit his lip to keep a groan from escaping as heat coursed through him at Silver’s words. He brought his hand down swiftly again, both to honor Silver’s wishes and as a distraction from his own desires. Silver grunted as the smack landed, and Flint stared down at the curve of Silver’s spine as his back muscles rippled. 

The first time, Flint had intended it as a punishment. It was supposed to be chastisement for Silver’s transgression, and so even when Silver’s reactions began to elicit a response in his own body, he'd done everything he could to suppress that. It had seemed a shameful thing, to take pleasure in causing another’s pain, even if that pain seemed enjoyable to them. 

What had changed? Was it simply that Silver had approached him this time? Was it the awareness that this control was only an illusion, held in place by an unspoken word? Or was Flint just tired of hiding, tired of denying himself, and too weak to refuse when pleasure was freely offered? It didn't mean anything, he reminded himself. It was simply an outlet for both of them. 

As he brought his hand down twice more in quick succession, Flint finally gave in to the part of himself that was enjoying this. A heady feeling spread through him, and he seemed hyperaware of Silver, of the sounds he was making and the movements of his body as he bent over Flint’s lap. Flint could hear the edge of pain in Silver’s groans, and the pleasure underlying that too which had Silver shivering with want. 

After several more smacks, Flint paused, rolling his wrist and flexing his palm. Each impact reverberated up through his wrist and elbow and into his shoulder, but Flint knew that soreness was nothing to what Silver’s backside was experiencing. 

At the absence of Flint’s hand, Silver whined, shifting against him. “ _Again_ , Captain.”

Oh. _Oh._ Flint brought his hand down to spank Silver once more, angling the smack so it made Silver lurch against the armrest, bringing his hips fully into contact with the outside of Flint’s thigh. Flint felt the full length of Silver’s erection, fully hard now, pressing against him. Even through the material of his trousers, Flint could feel how much Silver was leaking. _Oh,_ that was—

Flint spanked him again, harder, and Silver groaned, grinding his hips forward. “Oh,” Flint murmured, aloud this time. Silver let out a soft keening sound, as if undone by that simple utterance, his hips continuing to make small hitching motions. Flint laid another hard slap with his palm, listening for Silver’s moan, watching for the shudder that would pass through his body, waiting to feel the damp drag of Silver’s cock against his thigh again. Silver’s ass was bright red, the muscles clenching as Silver’s hips thrust forward.

“Was this what you wanted, when you entered my cabin?” Flint asked. He rested his hand, gently this time, cupping the curved muscle that had been so rudely treated. Heat emanated through his palm, and Silver shuddered beneath him, whimpering. His breathing was ragged, head sagging down towards the floor. But as Flint watched him, he saw Silver give a shaky nod. 

“ _God_ , look at you,” Flint said. “You could come just from this, couldn’t you?” 

“ _Fuck_ , I—” Silver panted, his body tense. “I...maybe?”

Flint swore, bringing his hand down in a spank that had more sound than force behind it. Silver gasped all the same, hitching his hips again. Flint encouraged him with another slap, then another, each one driving the pitch of Silver’s moans higher as he continued to thrust against Flint’s thigh. Flint’s pulse pounded in his ears, his entire focus narrowed on Silver as he writhed against Flint’s lap. So focused was he, he didn’t notice his own erection until Silver’s abdomen pressed briefly against it. Flint gasped, hand coming down to grip Silver’s ass as Silver groaned, tensing and shuddering as he reached orgasm. 

Flint watched, awed, as Silver’s body went pliant on his lap. He ignored the damp spot seeping through the fabric of his trousers, instead allowing himself to caress the reddened skin before him with calloused fingertips. Silver barely registered the touch except to let out a soft noise of approval. The pounding in Flint’s ears grew louder. He felt that same compulsion he’d felt the first time he did this, when he’d wanted to caress Silver, to _hold_ him. To lay him out and—

“Are you still with me?” Flint asked, keeping his tone soft. 

“Hmm?” Silver sounded almost bleary, lifting his head to look up at Flint through a curtain of hair. “Yes, I’m— _fuck_ , that was…”

Silver was shifting on Flint’s lap, using the chair arm as leverage to push himself up and closer to Flint. His face was open and vulnerable, wet with perspiration and tears that had escaped him. Flint was filled with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, on his eyelids, his cheekbones, before finally reaching his mouth. The pulse in Flint’s ears was drowning out rational thought. This was dangerous, his desires and instincts at war within him. This was…

“Will you fuck me?” Silver asked.

Flint swallowed, quieting the torrent of thought in his head. He wanted to, so badly. Maybe if he did, he reasoned, he would finally be able to get whatever this was out of his system. But he feared what might happen if he lost himself to Silver’s lips. 

“On your feet,” Flint said. “Hands on the desk, legs apart.” 

_Facing away from me_ went unspoken, but Silver seemed unbothered, excited at the prospect of getting fucked. He scrambled from the chair, hurrying to obey. That image, too, made Flint close his eyes a moment against the hunger that welled within him. He drew in a slow breath, exhaling, before he finally opened his eyes. He kept his gaze cast down as he stood from the chair, going to open his trousers. He paused a moment, considering the mess Silver had made of the trouser leg. In truth, he would like to remove them, but that would mean removing his boots as well. And he could hardly be fully naked from the waist down without removing any of his top garments. The trouble was, he didn’t want to be fully exposed in Silver’s presence, not in the figurative or literal sense. Flint pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the worst of the mess away, then loosened the lacings of his trousers. 

Flint reached for the nearest drawer, rummaging one-handed until he found the small bottle of oil he used to keep his leather belt and boots maintained. When he looked up, Silver was standing exactly as Flint had told him to, unmoving. It was an echo of his position in the office that day before Flint had told him to compose himself, only this time he wore nothing. Flint could not deny the reaction of his own body, given the sight before him. 

Flint let out an involuntary sigh, reaching forward to tangle his fingers in Silver’s hair. He tightened his grip slowly, tugging back gently until Silver’s throat was a graceful curve. All it would take was for him to lean forward, suck bruises and marks into Silver’s neck...but that was too close to his mouth. Too close to a vulnerability Flint didn’t want. He released Silver’s hair, and Silver made a plaintive noise as his head sagged forward over the desk again. The sound he made sent a flaring of heat through Flint. He wanted to see Silver unmade again, lost in that place where he was reduced to begging. Flint let his hand trail down Silver’s back, tracing the knots of his spine.

Silver hissed as Flint’s fingertips brushed the welts on his ass once more. The skin was hot to the touch, and that more than anything had Flint exhaling raggedly and sinking to his knees. Silver drew in a sharp breath as Flint cradled his cheeks, which morphed into a vocal cry as Flint lifted and held them apart while leaning in to nuzzle between them. Flint could only imagine how his beard and stubble would feel on Silver’s sensitive skin, how it must irritate those tender places further. Flint’s hands gripped firmly, holding him still, as Silver babbled incoherently and whined above him. Flint flicked his tongue out, mapping the skin, tasting sweat at Silver’s perineum before tracing the tip of his tongue around Silver’s hole. 

“Oh _f-fuck_.” Silver’s voice was high, almost a whimper. 

He sounded desperate. He sounded _wrecked_. But not enough, Flint decided. He gripped harder, lapping at the ring of muscle, drawing out each stroke of his tongue as he licked and sucked, losing himself in it as Silver shuddered and clenched around him. But Flint didn't stop. He formed his tongue into a point and thrust it forward, pressing in until it breached muscle while Silver uttered out a string of unintelligible curses, and still Flint didn't stop. Only after Flint was fucking Silver with his tongue, only after Silver was begging and near sobbing from it, did Flint withdraw. It was worth it, seeing the beard burn on top of the marks left by spanking, seeing the way Silver’s body quivered, seeing that his actions had made Silver fully hard once more.

At some point Silver had slumped forward onto his forearms on the desk, and he now clung to the wood surface like a lifeline in a storm. It only took a moment for Flint to locate the oil bottle once more, then he was standing, curving over Silver while slickened fingers traced his already teased hole. 

Flint angled his face, the better to see Silver’s pressed sideways on the desk. Silver’s hair was plastered to his forehead, the sides of his face, and his neck. His eyes were half open, fluttering weakly. 

“Are you still with me?” Flint asked. 

Silver shivered, gooseflesh rippling on his neck as he lifted his head the barest amount so he could nod. “Yes, Captain.”

Flint pressed one oiled finger into Silver, which sank fully inside with no resistance. He watched carefully the play of emotion on Silver’s face, the way he sighed blissfully, the glazed expression in his eyes. A second finger slid in easily as well, relaxed as Silver was. He was pliant, his body in a state of boneless ease. The greatest movement he made was to cant his hips upward, a silent invitation to continue. When Flint thrust a third finger, that got a greater reaction, as Silver let out a breathy moan and clenched around him. 

“ _Please_.”

A foreign feeling welled suddenly within Flint. No, not foreign, he realized, simply unfamiliar because it had been so long since he’d felt anything like it. A strange sort of protectiveness, utterly out of place in the context of their…whatever they were. It was distracting and more than a little frightening, to be feeling this after all the trouble Silver had caused him. When both their fates were still so uncertain, the promise of incomparable wealth just over the horizon. Flint cursed, standing upright, reaching for the bottle of oil to slick his cock. 

When Flint finally thrust forward, sinking into the heat of Silver’s body, Silver made a long, drawn-out noise of desperate relief. It was all Flint could do not to come immediately. He took a steadying breath, shifting his grip on Silver’s hips as he drew back, then thrust forward again. He couldn’t draw this out, not when he was so close. Silver hissed, each forward movement of Flint’s thighs bringing them into contact with the welts from the spanking. Flint groaned, his hips stuttering at the feel of Silver’s heated skin. He reached around to Silver’s front, taking his cock in a firm grip and jerking him rapidly. Silver gave a shout, clenching around him as he spilled over Flint’s fist.

Flint only managed two more thrusts before he stilled, body going tense as he came. He slumped over Silver’s back, panting into sweat-soaked skin. He remained there a moment, struggling to regain control of his breathing. He could feel his heartbeat thudding out a rhythm on the inside of his skull, and somewhere in his chest cavity he felt an ache of longing. All he wanted, at this moment, was to kiss away the tremble that had started beneath Silver’s skin, to gather Silver into his arms as a means to anchor them both.

Those thoughts were what finally had Flint pulling away, withdrawing physically and emotionally. He pulled out a fresh handkerchief, wiping himself clean, then cleared his throat to get Silver’s attention before offering the cloth to him as well. 

Silver stood, swaying a moment on shaky feet, then accepted the cloth Flint offered. There was an expression on his face, one of almost shy caution, that brought Flint’s resolve close to crumbling. It didn't mean anything, he told himself. 

“I—thank you,” Silver said. His voice was hoarse and gravelly. For a moment, he looked like he might say more, then he ducked his head, hiding behind his hair as he moved to retrieve his clothes. 

It didn't mean anything, Flint repeated inwardly. It was only supposed to stifle the need within him. How, then, was he still wanting? And now Silver was dressing himself again, putting up walls that Flint was unsure how to navigate. Unsure if he even wanted to. 

“Mr. Silver?” Flint said, as Silver moved towards the door.

Silver halted, turning to look back. He didn't seem hurt by what had happened. If anything, there was an uncertainty to his bearing. If Flint had the answers himself, he would offer them. 

“I'll send for you when I require the rest of the schedule.”


End file.
